The Way the World Ends
by Lady Shadow
Summary: I think I'm going to die here. Maybe I shouldn't be concerned...I think, maybe, I've been abandoned. A short, dark treat.


The Way the World Ends

Lady Shadow

**TITLE**: The Way the World Ends

**AUTHOR**: Lady Shadow

E-MAIL: HP/RL

**RATING**: R-NC-17

FEEDBACK: Off list, preferably.

**DISCLAIMER**: _The following is a work of __**fanfiction**__ based on the characters, settings and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, and any and all other legal associates. It is completed for entertainment purposes only. The author of this work of fanfiction does not own nor claim to own the aforementioned characters, settings or situations. No profit is made from the writing or publishing of this fanfiction. No infringement of any rights, copyright or otherwise, is intended. _

Summary: "I think I'm going to die here. Maybe I shouldn't be concerned...I think, maybe, I've been abandoned."

Category: Darkfic, angst, AU

**NOTES:** This fic makes use of the Wave V Mortal Moon Fuh-Q-Fest "Words of Another" Challenge. "It requires more courage to suffer than to die." - Napoleon Bonaparte, "The private wound is deepest" - Shakespeare: Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v, Sc.4, "There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know." --Dryden, 'The Spanish Friar' This is the way the world ends/ Not with a bang but with a whimper." T.S.Elliot, "To appreciate nonsense requires a serious interest in life." - Gelett "To me, fair friend, you can never be old."– Shakespeare, "When making a decision of minor importance, I have always found it advantageous to consider all the pros and cons. In vital matters, however, such as the choice of a mate or a profession, the decision should come from the unconscious, from somewhere within ourselves. In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature." Sigmund Freud, "When we ask for advice, we are usually looking for an accomplice." -Marquis de LaGrange "Where there is much light, the shadow is deep." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Quotes marked in context by

BETA: LittleMouse

ARCHIVING: Ask first.

HPRL

Clink, _clink_. Clink, _clink_, clin-_clink­_. Clink, clinkclinkclink. Sigh. Shuffle. Scrape. _Thud._ Clink, _clink_. Clink.

I think I'm going to die here. Maybe I shouldn't be concerned. How long has it been now? A few days? A month? Ten? I think, maybe, I've been abandoned. What I wouldn't give to see the expression on the face of the collective masses if they could see me now. Some savior.

Clink, _clink_. Clink, _clink_.

"_Stop _that!"

Pause... Clink, _clink_. Clink, _clink._

"Damnit I said _stop it!_"

Clink, _clink_. Clink, _clink_. Funny, the sound the right pebble can make against a stone wall.

"Goddamnit all, you better cut it out!"

Chuckle. Clink, _clink_.

"_Crucio!_"

I think I still scream. After all, it's not as much fun if I don't. But this bumbling idiot doesn't have the same finesse with the Cruciatus Curse that Bella and Voldemort have managed; let's not even mention Lucius, hm? It ends quickly. I laugh. He seethes. It's a game that I still enjoy.

"A little sloppy," I rasp, pushing myself up and smirking at him like I don't care. "Try again." He does. It's no better. Perhaps it's even worse. The pain stops at my wrists and knees and doesn't even make it to the top of my head. Perhaps I'm just numb. Or perhaps he's just that bad. "A for effort!" I declare, laughing. Last week, he called me a maniac. This week, he's been quiet.

"You're getting a visitor today," he says, his voice a poor imitation of Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic drawl.

"Oh, really?" I ask, my voice alight with false anticipation. I stand slowly, ignoring the bile climbing sluggishly up my throat. "Who could it be, hm? Lucius, maybe?" I approach the bars slowly. Under his mask, I imagine that he glares at me. "I always do enjoy Lucius." In some sick, twisted way, I think I'm telling the truth. Lucius is an intriguing man. Bella is mad, Voldemort is far too arrogant to be truly cruel, but Lucius... well, Lucius is a breed all his own. His inventiveness never ceases to catch me by surprise. Having reached the bars, I lean against them casually, as though this is something that is normal. He steps away. Smart boy. I strangled the last one who got too close. He almost died, but was rescued mere heartbeats from extinction. I'm too weak to do something like that now, but _he_ doesn't know that.

"Or maybe my old pal Voldie? It's been a few days since I've seen him. I miss our chats."

"Not quite, Potter," he growls, and I smile. Butchering their Lord's name never ceases to pull a rise out of these Joeys.

"No? How truly unfortunate. I shall hold out for Lucius then." I reach through the bars slowly. He's just close enough to touch, angled just right for me to run one filthy swollen digit down his chest. He swats my hand away. I laugh and return to the opposite side of the cell.

Clink, _clink_. Clink, _clink_.

"Damnit, I _told_ you to _stop it!_"

Chuckle. What a fun game.

"Having problems controlling the prisoner?"

I smirk. A death sentence for any Death Eater, surely. I suppose I'll have someone new to torment come tomorrow. Pity, I almost liked this one. Even if he is a little clumsy. But, time for a new game.

"Ah, Lucius. Are those your dulcet tones I hear?" He comes into sight and I smile at him as though he were an old friend making a social call. I suppose, in some sense, he is. "Oh, it is you! I had hoped so. I miss you when you're gone." I sigh wistfully and give him an empty-eyed smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," he greets, a smile on his lips too. He used to approach my cell as though heading for an unpleasant, but unfortunately obligatory chore. Now, he seems to greet me with some degree of pleasure. I think he likes me, but _shhh_, don't tell.

"What's on the agenda tonight, hm? What sort of games are we to play?"

"I'm afraid I've no time for games tonight, Harry. Perhaps another time."

I pout. "What a pity. Just a talk then?" I ask, watching him through partially-lowered lashes.

"Not even that. I've brought you a guest; I thought perhaps you could use some company," he says sweetly and I smile at him prettily. Or as prettily as one can manage covered in grime and dirt.

"How considerate of you. Utterly magnanimous, really." He smirks too, and doesn't rise to the bait. Voldie always rises to the bait, Bella's pretty hit and miss, but it takes quite a bit to rile up old Lucius. Lucius motions with one hand and holds the other out for the key. My guard fumbles through his robes for it. Too slow. A quick _crucio_ once the keys have finally been handed over drops him like a stone. He screams quite a bit. I used to scream like that. Poor fellow.

I make no attempt to stand as the door to the cell is opened. I tried to rush Lucius once at this most critical time. He took his time with me that day. I think he must have broken every individual bone in my body. Twice. I never did it again. Even the foolhardy can be conditioned, after all. Once Lucius is in the cell, he stands back and holds the door open. Two more Death Munchers file in, carrying a madly struggling man between them.

"Ah, a party!" I declare gleefully. The man between the Death Eaters goes abruptly limp and they laugh. He hits the wall hard and simply slides to the floor. I ignore him for the time being, keeping my attention on Lucius. Lucius doesn't like to be ignored. Besides, he's one of the few people who come down here without a mask, and it's always nice to see another person's face.

"A party for two I'm afraid." The other two Death Eaters back out and I pout as he follows them. The poor bloke on the floor has been reduced to whimpers and twitches by this point. Lucius takes pity on him and lifts the curse. He collapses in a sobbing heap.

I look at him dispassionately. "See, my friend, _that_ is finesse," I tell him seriously. He moans and tries to roll onto his back, but I imagine he's far too weak to manage something like that. Probably will be for a long time. Provided that he lives past the next few hours, of course.

Lucius chuckles. "Why thank you, Mr. Potter. A finer compliment I've never been paid." I give him a grin and casually flip him off. He returns the gesture with a wave and walks away. My guard will probably be replaced fairly soon. But until then, I'm left with an unknown guest and a pile of incoherent goo. I turn, almost casually to my guest to see Remus Lupin staring at me in horror.

"Oh, hello there Moony," I greet cheerfully.

Remus sobs. "You're mad," he moans.

"There is a pleasure in being mad," I tell him, my tone serious, "which none but the madmen know." He gapes at me and I reach forward to pat him consolingly on the shoulder. "There, there. It's not so bad. You get used to it after a while. Are you badly injured?" He shakes his head, eyes glittering and following my every movement with a sort of intense wildness. Poor thing. "Well, that's good. Because I probably wouldn't have been able to do much for you, had you been. How'd you get caught?"

"Trying to save you..."

"Oh, that's sweet. Did you hear that, he was trying to save me. Nice of him, don't you think?" My guard doesn't respond. I hadn't expected him to. If he isn't dead yet, he most certainly is wishing he were. "He's a little out of sorts today, you'll have to forgive him," I tell Remus apologetically.

Remus stares at me incredulously and I smile back. I think I probably frighten him. I wonder what he's thinking. Perhaps that he shouldn't have come. That I'm lost anyways. I'd be less help out there than I am in here. At least in here I give people something to be angry about. Out there, I'd probably single-handledly destroy every ounce of faith remaining in the wizarding world. But that's okay.

He doesn't know. I don't think I'll tell him.

"What time of the month is it, Moons?" I ask, casually. He gives me a searching look, perhaps looking for one tiny spark of sanity. I doubt he'll find one. I've hidden them all away.

"Crescent."

"Oh. Well that's good. At least I won't be ripped to shreds tonight, hm?" I point out cheerfully. He sobs. I scoot across the wall so I'm pressed up against his side. I set my chin against his shoulder, so my lips are close to his ear. I'm sure it's not comfortable for him, and it really _is _cruel to subject him to my smell. "You shouldn't cry," I tell him, my voice soft and serious, and perhaps just a tiny-weeny-little-itsty-bit sane. "They like it when you do that."

He tries, he really does, I can tell. I applaud him for it. "Shh... it's okay. For right now it's okay. Joey over there isn't really in any condition to enjoy anything anyways. You can cry for now. Just don't cry when some other Joey comes. Certainly don't cry when Lucius comes. But crying for Bella is okay. It distracts her sometimes. She gets far too much pleasure out of it." This having been said, I scoot away again, content to sit in the silence and listen to Joey sniffle and Remus cry.

It's actually some time before they come down to collect Joey. "Tsk, tsk, gentlemen. Getting sloppy. He's been incapacitated for much longer than the last one. I could have escaped twice by now," I goad casually. Beside me, Remus' breath hitches.

"Then why didn't you?" One asks, his voice muffled through his mask, but carrying the sarcastic tone well enough. I wonder if these are the two Joeys that came down earlier, but I don't ask. Instead, I shrug and make a non-committal noise in the back of my throat.

"I was too comfortable to bother." I can almost _hear_ him clench his jaw, and I smirk.

"_Crucio!_" he all but screams. I might have laughed, if I hadn't been otherwise occupied. It lifts quickly. They always do these days. One Joey left it on too long once. He didn't come back and no one's done it since. Once the pain bleeds out some, I do laugh. And laugh, and laugh. It makes them both angry. One hits the bars hard, trying to startle me out of my mania, probably. I merely look up at him and smile.

"I'm sure that probably hurt the bar worse than it hurt your hand," I say seriously. "Congratulations."

He growls, moves to raise his wand again, but gets stopped by his partner. They pick Joey up by his arms and drag him away. He whimpers pitifully until I can no longer hear him. "Hmm... sloppy, sloppy. No guards at all. Maybe they're low on personnel?" I wonder.

"They are."

I'm so used to not being answered that I almost swear in startlement, but manage not to. I turn and give Remus an inquiring look. He appears to have stopped crying. "Not meeting their recruiting quotas these days?" I ask.

Lupin snorts in what I think is amusement. "They're losing," he announces.

"Ah," I say sagely, as though I'd known that. Remus is probably lucky that no Joeys stayed behind. He'd be screaming now if they had. But he's not, so I suppose it's alright. "Did a little black bird tell you that?" I ask and I can see the gears shifting in his mind. Was I that crazy and really asking if a bird had talked to him, or was I that sane and making a reference to Severus? Who knows. I'll never tell. He nods shortly and I laugh. Sometimes my own laughter startles me. I've never laughed so warmly before. He seems to think so too, and looks vaguely horrified at the sound. I smile. "That's good."

"Harry?" Remus tries after some time has passed.

"Hm?"

"Are you still...?" He hesitates and I give him a brilliant smile.

"Still in here? Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose you'll find out someday. If they don't kill me first."

"Oh," he says quietly. It's all he can say. I make sense to myself sometimes, and Bella and I have been known to carry on surprisingly intelligent conversations in such tones, but not many people get my code anymore. Ah, such is the burden of madness, I suppose.

"Harry... we have to get out of here," Remus says finally. I think he's decided that no one is hiding around the corner and it's safe to plot our escape. I smile and nod in an empty sort of way. Of course we do. "Now, while there's no one here," he insists, slowly pulling himself to his feet. He _is_ injured, I decide, watching him shuffle to the bars. A broken rib, I think. Maybe two. And possibly some internal bruising. It probably hurts.

"Uh-huh." I agree, making no move to stand.

"Now, Harry!" he snaps.

I turn my eyes to him lazily. "Been there, done that. Doesn't work."

"You coward!" he hisses. I think he means to get a rise out of me. That might have worked a few weeks ago. Or was it only hours that I cared? Perhaps a few months... hm...

"How do you define a coward, Remus?" I ask. I think the changes in my tone keep catching him off guard. They used to catch Voldemort off guard too, but Lucius is never fazed. Bella has never cared. McNair wasn't around long enough.

"Sitting here, letting yourself be tortured to madness! If you're not going to escape, then just die!" I think I'm surprised. For a moment I wonder if this is really Remus. Remus wouldn't say something like that, would he? Or maybe he would. My memories of Remus are a little hazy. My memories are a little hazy period, made muddy by delusions and dreams, turned bloody by nightmares I can't shake.

"A very wise and very short man once said, 'It takes more courage to suffer than to die.' So by both our reckonings, I'm really quite courageous, now aren't I?" I reason. He stares at me incredulously. "How do you propose to get out the door, yet alone away from the dungeons?" I don't tell him that I _have_ gotten out the door. Twice. I made it out of the dungeons once. I know there's no hope. But he doesn't, so I'll humor him.

"I've been told that you're proficient with wandless magic," he says cautiously. He's fishing. He hasn't been told that. I am, but he couldn't know that. Unless our little black bird has tattled on me.

I decide to throw him a bone and incline my head. "Maybe." Well, a bit of bone. Half a bone, really.

"Can't you get the door open?"

"It's warded." I don't mention that the other bars are not. Silly Death Eaters. I've escaped from this cell twice and they still don't feel the need to ward all the bars. Tsk, tsk, indeed. Lucius and I have a running wager about escape. "_If you can escape_," he says, "_I shall fall to your feet and follow you to the ends of the universe._" Lucius isn't a stupid man. And smart men don't make wagers they have any chance of losing. But Remus doesn't know that either.

"Can you summon the key?" he tries. Smart boy, I congratulate silently. Tried that. Worked once. Not likely to work again. I shrug. "Try, damnit!"

"Now Remus, I tell you this only because I love you, truly. All summoning the key will accomplish is a massive headache on my end and you with the problem of getting yourself and an incapacitated madman out of the dungeons. Now, I'm not all that heavy, but I can assure that dead weight of any measurement is a severe detriment to things like moving quickly and staying silent. Unless of course you mean to escape on your own. Perhaps I can accommodate that."

"Stop that! Don't ever say that again! I'm not leaving this dungeon unless you do."

"Ah. Pity. Well, then, come here and join me against the wall. I shall introduce you to the Pebble Game."

"No. We'll think of another way." Where did that quiet, unimposing man I'd grown to love go? Such fire in this one...

"Sure we will." I don't tell him that I've already thought of thousands of ways, and none of them are likely to work, and for a multitude of reasons. First and perhaps foremost, the door out of the dungeons moves. Secondly, it's layered in wards so thick that they can be felt vibrating the stones dozens of paces away. Not to mention the fact that the door is guarded on both the inside and outside. Or that the upper levels are positively _crawling_ with Death Nibblers. Munchers. Eaters, whatever. Let's not even think about Voldie's magical menagerie of vicious beasts that could make even Hagrid wet his pants.

"Have you even _tried_ to escape?!" he demands, rounding on me. The sudden motion seems to jar his side something fierce and he hisses, tears leaping to his eyes.

"Come now," I say, mock-hurt, "is that a very nice thing to say to a fellow Gryffindor? Or was I Slytherin... ? Sometimes I have trouble remembering."

"Gryffindor!" Remus snaps. "You were a Gryffindor!"

He's far too easy to provoke. I think he won't last too long in here. For the first time in a long time, I truly contemplate escape. Not for myself, but for him. I've long since resigned myself to a slow death down the winding road of madness, but Remus deserves better than that. I sigh, my own 'hero instinct' choosing that very moment to come gasping back to life. While Remus glares and starts to work on escape plans out loud, I gently reach out with silvery mental fingers and brush against his mind. I hesitate briefly, indecision momentarily rendering me useless. He does have Occlemency shields up- pretty good ones, too- but I could bypass them easily enough. No, I'm more worried about myself. Am I really sane enough to slide into someone else's mind? Minds are such tricky things. One misstep and _snap!_ all gone. But Remus really is talking too much. I push in gently, announcing my presence with a knock of sorts. He falls silent immediately and turns shocked eyes on to me.

_Keep talking,_ I manage, settling myself into the back of his mind. Let's hope he can multi-task, hm? _Now,_ I start_ If you really wish to escape this place, you will have to learn when it's appropriate to speak. The stones have ears at least, if not eyes too. There is much to give you away in a place such as this. Never assume you are unwatched._

_...okay..._ he answers, shaky and confused, but hopeful. I suppose I probably sound a good deal more sane in his head than I do in his ear. Ah, if only he knew.

_Now, come sit down. Someone is coming and you're much too weak to undergo _Cruciatus _at the moment._ Still grumbling -he's a passable actor- he comes and sits roughly beside me. Mere moments later a Joey comes in sight and stares at us suspiciously. I smile up at him. "Good evening," I greet cheerfully. "I suppose you're Joey's replacement. What's your name?" He says nothing. Only one man was stupid enough to tell me his name. In two days I had him wrapped so far around my finger that he got close enough to the bars to kiss. Of course, all he got was an arm around his neck. "Oh, that's right. Joey. Nice to meetcha. Do you like books?" I ask. He doesn't answer. That's okay. He turns to his newspaper, I pick up a pebble and chuck it at the wall. _Clink, clink_.

"This is the Pebble Game," I explain to Remus, as though I were young and he was young and we were two young boys meeting for the first time and I had to show him how to play. He stares at me wonderingly. Maybe he's wondering if he only imagined me inside of his head. Maybe he's wondering if he's already going crazy. Slowly he picks up another tiny pebble and throws it at the stone wall. Clink, _clink_. "Good." I give him a smile and decide not to set his fears to ease. We continue throwing pebbles.

Clink, cl-clink, _clin-clink._

"Stop it." Ah, the Pebble Game. This Joey isn't going to be much fun. The last Joey at least lasted half a day.

Clink, _clink_. Clink, clink, clink, _clink_.

"_Stop it."_ His voice is a little deeper than the last Joey's. He seems to think he's intimidating. He must not know Lucius.

Clink, clink, clink. Clink, clink. _Clink, clink_.

"Damnit, _stop_!"

I chuckle. Remus' eyes dart between me and Joey. He probably thinks it's not a good idea to get Joey mad. I used to think so too. But they're not fun when they're in control. _Clink,_ clink.

"Merlin-damnit, Potter, if you don't stop, I'll curse you!"

"Would you really?" I ask, fluttering my eyelashes hopefully. He stands abruptly and approaches the bars like a pitbull. He's pretty big, I guess. But it's hard to tell with the robes and all.

"Don't push me, Potter," he warns. I think he really does think he's scary. How delightful. "I don't play nice."

I stand slowly, swaying just _that_ much as I do. I think it comes off a little creepier anyways. I roll my head slowly and smile in a way I know unsettles these Joeys. Poor things. He doesn't move as I approach the bars. It's strange the way these Joey's think. If they move back, they've lost; if they stay there, they've somehow proven that they're not afraid. I really do give him plenty of warning, but he doesn't seem like the smart type. A foot away from the bars, I lunge. He draws in a startled breath, but it's too late. My hand finds the collar of his robes and with one great heave, I pull him forward. He hits the bars hard, crying out in shock as his nose breaks. He begins to fight against me, and I laugh. Stupid man, he has a wand and I don't. Why don't these Joeys ever think? I _despise_ thoughtless people.

"Don't push me, Joey," I warn mockingly. "I don't kiss nice." This having been said, I bite the red stain on his white mask, where his nose is hiding, probably swollen and purple. He shrieks and I finally let him go. He stumbles back, hits the wall, clutches his hands to his nose.

"Now, now, Joey. That didn't hurt too bad, now did it? You should really stop screaming. Someone's gonna hear you and wonder what's going on down here. Do you know what happens to Joeys who can't control the prisoner?" I ask. Through his pain, I see him still. I don't know, not really. I suppose they probably die. They might even die in extreme agony. But I suppose _he_ knows. He makes an effort to stifle his screams and I laugh as I return to my wall.

Some time later, he fixes his nose and cleans his mask.

Clink, _clink_. Remus stares at me for a moment, and then slowly picks up another pebble.

HPRL

It's quite awhile before I 'talk' to Remus again. His shoulders sag in relief as my voice slides again into his mind.

_Tell me, Remus, how are you?_ I ask, because I really do need to know. I suppose I could just poke around a bit and find out, but I need to conserve my magical strength. And by 'conserving my magical strength' I mean 'lazy.'

_Fine, _ he answers, a little too tight.

I tut at him in displeasure. _You do not make yourself any more strong by hiding from me your hurts, dear boy_, I tell him. He grimaces and I think I probably remind him of Dumbledore just then. Maybe I meant to, or perhaps I did it entirely on accident. I suppose we'll never know.

_I think I've a few broken ribs,_ he provides finally.

_Ah, now see, those are the types of things you should share, Moony; after all, 'the private wound is the deepest.'_ I admonish, silently congratulating myself on a diagnosis well made. Perhaps I should go into mediwizardry? Well... maybe not.

_Don't you quote Shakespeare to me,_ he snaps. _Besides, what could you do to help?_ he asks, throwing my own words back at me. I consider not telling him, perhaps out of spite, and perhaps out of simple laziness, but I suppose I owe him that. He needs to be strong if we expect to get out of this alive.

_I can't fix it, but I can dull the pain,_ I tell him quietly. He's curled around me on the little straw pallet in the corner. His body tenses against mine, and I resist the urge to chuckle. It would probably hurt his side. Without waiting for him to say anything else, I gently poke through his mind until I find the nerves that are firing. With gentle fingers I turn them off one by one until only a couple are still alight. He needs to remember he's still injured after all, and a lack of pain might lull him into a false sense of security. He breaths a warm sigh across my neck and I shudder in his arms.

"Remus?" I ask out loud, hoping that Joey hasn't dropped off to sleep yet. I find myself in an entertaining mood. "When we get out of here," I tell him, "You have to promise to let me treat you to a nice candlelit dinner."

"Okay," he agrees readily enough, obviously a little confounded.

"And then you must promise to give me a thorough fucking." He chokes in shock, coughs as the motion jars his side. Outside the cell I hear Joey start laughing. Perfect.

"So desperate for a fuck that you'll even take a werewolf cock up the ass, eh, Potter?" He asks, obviously forgetting his last lesson in the game of "toying with Harry Potter." I smile viciously, knowing he can't see me.

"Well, you've so far abstained and Lucius hardly comes to see me at all these days. So I suppose I have to take it where I can get it." Behind me, Remus tenses up, his hand balling into a fist against my hip.

"I make sure to file your complaint," he says with a sneer.

"See that you do," I sniff contemptuously. From the silence that follows I can tell he's trying to muddle through if I'm serious or not. Potter- 2, Joey- 0. These games grow far too simple. I almost miss the days when I lost games like this.

_Now, _I say, content in my victory for the moment. _Your Occlemency isn't all that spectacular, so I'm afraid I can't really tell you anything. Just be ready._

_For what?_ he asks frantically, perhaps not wanting me to stop speaking.

_Anything. Everything. The whole world, Remus. The whole wide bloody world._

He's silent after that.

HPRL

I don't 'speak' to him again for several days. I spend most of my time playing the Pebble Game. Joey is actually a bit better at than one would have assumed, giving his initial reaction. But I think it drives Remus more mad than it does Joey, so I reluctantly give it up in favor of the 'Bait Joey Game.' This one he's not so good at, but he's not _quite_ stupid and doesn't approach the bars again. He's not very good at Cruciatus, and I think he well and truly knows it. He spends his time practicing more minor hexes. He seems to prefer the cutting hexes. Luckily for him, he's also proficient enough with the healing charms. If I wanted to get him in trouble, I could be less cooperative with those and let Bella find the open wounds on her next visit. She gets particularly testy when someone else marks her play toy. While that's always amusing to watch, I'd rather not get rid of this Joey and chance my plans with another variable. So, I'm a relatively good boy and stand still while he heals me. I spend the rest of the day being lazy. And by 'lazy,' I mean 'conserving my strength.'

Remus gets more rounds of _crucio_ from him than I do, Joey banking on the fact that it will hurt me more to see Remus hurt than if it was happening to me. He may have been right a few weeks or months or years ago. Now I just watch dispassionately and pat him consolingly when the curse is lifted. Joey better hope that Bella doesn't take an interest in Remus, or he's gonna be in trouuuuuble.

When I feel like I'm ready -ready or not, the attempt has to be made soon, before I find myself souring in the belly of a hungry werewolf- I spend the entire day silent. The silence seems to unnerve both Joey and Remus, but I do nothing to relieve their unease. Remus will understand soon enough and Joey... well, Joey may understand too. But it's also more likely that he'll be dead. It's too bad really, he's a nice enough bloke, I guess. I wait until after dinner, giving both Remus and myself some time to digest. Joey doesn't seem particularly hungry and merely pokes around his plate. The Joeys get brought significantly finer food than we receive, of course. Most of the time they make a point to over-emphasize their enjoyment, but tonight Joey forgoes the game and simply pushes the food from one side of his plate to the other. I'm almost overcome with the desire to tell him to enjoy his last meal. But I think that would probably defeat the purpose, so I don't.

After a sufficient amount of time has passed, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. I've been practicing this every night and feel I know Joey's mind well enough to pull it off. If I don't, I imagine both Remus and I are quite thoroughly fucked. And not in the good way. Letting out a slowly breath, I reach forward with long mental fingers and skirt Joey's flimsy defenses. He probably hasn't been formally trained at all and these are more than likely a natural self-defense than the product of any conscious attempt at shielding. I examine his disorganized mind from a distance, plan my attack and then... I know immediately that I've hit the right chord and open my eyes slowly. His fork has dropped out of his hands and he's staring at me with vacant eyes. Perfect. A little nudge and he takes the tray off his lap and sets it on the table, then stands and takes out his keys. I'm aware of Remus' eyes frantically darting back and forth between us, and hopefully he's putting two and two together and not coming up with seven. Because we're likely just as fucked if he is.

Joey unlocks the cell and pushes the door open. It opens soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, the wards immediately dispelling at the touch of the key. I smile grimly and stand. Remus quickly scrambles to his feet.

_Don't touch him_, I warn. Joey courteously holds the door open through the bars and then shuts it soundlessly and turns the lock. If there's anyone watching the wards, they will assume that Joey has just opened the door and retrieved our trays like he does every night and locked us in securely. Oh, so clever, these Death Eaters. Remus grows immediately antsy and I can tell that he's fighting the impulse to simply take off down the hall. Joey slowly pulls his sleeve up and touches his finger to his Mark. Immediately a line of mortar begins to glow and he follows it mechanically, Remus and I following behind. It doesn't take a whole lot of effort to hold on to Joey's mind now that I have him, but it _does_ take a good deal of effort to continuously scan the surrounding corridors for other occupants. Especially with so many critters wandering the halls.

Joey leads us on several turns, and once the line doubles back on itself and turns another direction, but we reach the door surprisingly quickly. It's not manned on the inside- they _must_ be low on personnel. But it's hardly something I'm going to lose sleep over. A simple probe through the door reveals that the outside _is_. At least there's only one man. I debate waiting to see if his partner is going to return and eventually decide that I'd best make the attempt now before I'm too weak to snare him.

This Joey's mind is slightly better fortressed, and I have to approach it carefully. However, I quickly discover, that while he's set up some rudimentary safe-guards, he has not created any alarms. I bypass his safeguards easily and gently ensnare his mind. As with the cell guard, I immediately feel it when he succumbs to me, and flittingly wonder if this counts as Imperious. Brushing the stray notion aside, I direct him to remove the wards and open the door. Once through, he hands his wand over to Remus with a polite bow and begins to remove his outer robes and mask. Joey the cell guard does the same and thus I get my first look at my guards. Neither are particularly noteworthy, and whatever looks Joey the cell guard might have once possessed are marred by a swollen, misshapen nose. I almost feel sorry for him. But only almost.

Once they're both stripped, I send them off with the vague notion that they're playing hide-and-seek in the catacombs and must not be found. I suppose they'll either be located, or they'll starve to death. Either way, a tiny _snap_ ensures that they'll spend the rest of their days, however many that may be, in blissful madness. It's not really my problem anymore. Remus has already come up with four and is putting the Death Eater robes on by the time I gently withdraw from the guards' minds. I'm immediately overtaken by a headache and a wave of nausea knocks me against the wall. Remus is quick to come to my aid, but I wave him away. The door guard will be missed soon, and I don't have time to be sick. I quickly pull the robes on and size them. Joey's wand feels strange in my hand and its magic resonates oddly with my own. But it will work. Remus does his own robes and nods, as though to confirm that it works.

_You must be quiet_, I warn him. I will try to take us on a route that will avoid people if possible, but there's always the chance that we'll run into something. I hesitantly disillusion myself and Remus does likewise. There's no telling if the spell has worked properly with the foreign wand, and disillusionment won't make us invisible, but it might just save our lives in a near-miss. I gesture with one hand for Remus to follow and cautiously slip out of the door, after checking to be sure there is no one directly behind it.

From there it's almost ridiculously easy. The halls are nearly empty; the entire manor contains perhaps a dozen people, and none of them carry the distinct stingy flavor of Voldie, Bella or Lucius. Even with borrowed wands, I feel confident that we could probably fight our way out of the manor if we had to. Provided that I can stay conscious long enough, of course. My head is swimming and I move as slowly as I dare to keep from getting sick or simply fainting. Remus is growing more and more anxious with every passing moment, but I can do nothing to alleviate his anxiety, and silently urge him to remain quiet and calm.

We finally arrive at a small service door that I know is unwarded. It's a house elf-sized door and has probably been long-forgotten by the manor's taller occupants. We have to crawl on our hands and knees to get out and the motion is nearly my undoing. When I emerge, I'm forced to take several long seconds to calm my spinning head while Remus tries to urge me to stand. I know how he feels; so close to freedom it almost tickles the tongue, but we could be a thousand miles away for all it will matter if someone notices the missing guard before we reach the anti-apparation wards. I can just barely see them, glowing faintly along the line of the trees. I sure hope Remus is up to apparating as soon as we pass those wards, because I'm sure there are alarms everywhere and probably a few members of the aforementioned magical menagerie lurking among the trees. My sense of animals is so much weaker than humans, so I can't really tell.

I want very much to put and arm around Remus' shoulders and let him help me to the wards, but I'm only all too aware that we're going to need his strength soon. Captivity has not done well for my physical strength and the escape has already winded me. My muscles have atrophied from disuse and the numerous rounds of torture have inflicted their own strange tattoo on my endurance. Those trees look so very far away. Remus is trying to break into a jog, but I keep holding him back with one hand. Besides, if we were Death Munchers on patrol, we would be walking calmly across the grounds. Plus, fast movement draws the eyes.

I can tell instantly the moment our escape has been noted and nearly sob in frustration. The wards are mere _feet_ away. Remus grabs me as soon as the alarm sounds and I let him pull one of my arms over his shoulders. The game's up, and we're seconds from losing. For the first time in far too long, I find myself truly _caring_. I'm forced to pull off the mask so I can breathe and Remus does the same. There's no point in pretending any more anyways, and the damn things will just slow us down.

We just pass the wards when a sharp clap heralds the arrival of one of Voldie's minions. Remus freezes reflexively and I find myself smirking at one startled Lucius Malfoy.

"Ends of the universe, Lucius," I remind him, laughter bubbling out of my throat. It's a bluff, but I don't think he realizes it. Remus is too weak to apparate, I can see that now.

Suddenly Lucius begins to laugh as well. For a second I think he's going to call my bluff, but he only shakes his head and smiles at me. "Can we skip the falling at your feet bit for now?" he asks, one eyebrow lifted elegantly. I take a split second to appear as though I'm considering it, and nod. He steps forward, and despite Remus' protests, wraps his arms around us. The Death Eaters are just emerging from the manor as we disapparate.

HPRL

I have a split second to worry that Lucius has betrayed us -why wouldn't he, after all?- but then realize that we're standing outside the gates of Hogwarts. I could cry with relief, and beside me, Remus does. Against my chest, Lucius chuckles.

"I would suggest that it would be prudent for you to 'take me captive,' but I don't think anyone will believe that, now will they?" I smile wolfishly and he sighs. "Here my arrogance has gone and tied me to yet another madman. Lead on, madman, lead on."

This particular madman is in no condition to do much of anything, yet alone 'lead on,' but I don't say it. He doesn't seem to actually expect me to either and instead supports us both as we hobble towards home. We're met part way by a very suspicious-looking Severus Snape, who takes one look at Lucius and draws his wand. He seems to have the presence of mind to train it on me instead, but I see his eyes flying over the tall blonde as he tries to decide exactly what to do.

"Why lookie here, if it isn't our little black bird," I sing, a genuine smile blossoming across my face. "I've brought you a dove," I tell him seriously. His eyebrows crease and he looks to Remus, who only shrugs.

"He's quite mad," he says, and I nod sagely in agreement.

"Severus, would you mind taking the mutt? They're getting uncomfortable." That seems to break the moment and Severus cautiously slides an arm around Remus' waist. Seeming only too happy to be away from Lucius, Remus eagerly transfers his weight to the other man's capable shoulders, while Lucius swings me into his arms. He's always had such nice arms.

"Perhaps someone could explain exactly what is going on here," Severus asks finally, his voice tight.

"Well, you see my slippery little traitor, I made a foolish wager with our darling little madman here and appear to have lost."

Severus goes stock still and I can almost _see_ his mind working to process the statement and which part he should defend first.

"Oh, don't look so shocked, _little black bird_, I've known you were the spy since last October."

Ah, October. I was captured in October. Snape must have given himself away then. Tch, tch, Severus, tch, tch.

"Though I suppose I can't berrate you _too_ much... I confess I've been looking for an out myself for months now. I was beginning to believe Potter really had gone insane and _would_ let me win our wager."

"Oh, I assure you," I interrupt, trying to ignore the way my words slur. "I am _quite_ insane, thank you very much. And you sure didn't make it easy for me if you wanted me to escape," I point out. After all, it was this little dove here who had foiled my escape plans, _twice_, and thoroughly punished me for it both times.

"Yes, well... I'm not one to lose a bargain lightly," Lucius admits. I snort and curl into his warmth. I fear I shall never be warm like he is ever again. The dungeons have infected my very bones, I'll wager. I'll be cold and sickly until the day I die. Ah, melodrama, thou art ever mine companion!

I'm very close to passing out, but some part of me remembers that I have to stay awake, at least for a little while. Otherwise Lucius will be apprehended on sight and shipped off before you can say 'Azkaban.' Where he'll be rescued and returned to the loving embrace of Voldie and his darling Death Munchers. Eaters. Whatever. By the time we reach the doors of the school, there's a full barricade.

"Oh, what a _lovely_ welcome home!" I crow, doing my best to clap, but painfully aware of how much I _hurt_.

"Severus, what exactly is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore asks, and I feel a little put out. He doesn't even look happy to see me. I've been gone for such a very, very long time and he doesn't even look relieved that I'm home. Such a pity.

"The brat has brought us a dove," Snape deadpans. Dumbledore seems to understand and his eyes flash to me quickly. Go ahead, wonder if I've been compromised... c'mon, try and take a peak. I'll show you things that will give you night terrors for the rest of your unnatural life, I urge, but after a few minutes of merely staring at me, he seems to relax. I feel almost disappointed, a little cheated perhaps. He motions behind him and Poppy rushes forward.

"Take Remus," I tell her. He's the one with the broken ribs, after all. And once I remove those pain blockers, he's not gonna be a happy werewolf. She hesitates, but veers toward him. Lucius follows without word, but we're stopped by Dumbledore at the steps.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to have to ask for your wand."

Lucius sneers, and I can almost hear the retort on the tip of his tongue, but he stills himself, shifts me a bit so he can reach his sleeve and withdraws the long dark wand. He offers it to Dumbledore handle-first and continues up the stairs without another word.

HPRL

When I finally wake some time later, I find a still-unconscious werewolf in the bed beside mine and a bored-looking Lucius Malfoy at my bedside.

"What're _you_ doing here?" I ask, blinking up at him.

He smirks. "Do you know how long you've been out?" he asks sweetly.

I glare at him, but decide to play. "Hm, lets see; you're wearing black, so it must be a Sunday. Remus is still sleeping, and his injuries weren't _that_ bad, so I'd say fourteen hours." I say, pulling a random number out of the air.

He smiles in merriment. "Guess again."

"Why don't you just _tell_ me, my _little dove_," I say, not above taking swipes at him.

He seems to be amused by the reminder, and perhaps has picked up on the fact that I wasn't in a particularly _playful_ mood. "Eight weeks." He appears to find my shock amusing and gives me another of his pretty little smiles. I am immediately reminded of the way he smiles while rolling his sleeves up and unwinding the whip. I shudder reflexively and glare at him.

"Why is Remus still out?" I demand, as though it's his fault.

"Oh, he's not _still_ out. He's merely out _again_. Full moon last night," he clarifies, perhaps not wishing to upset me, perhaps remembering the way he smiled while rolling up his sleeves and unwinding the whip. I think I shall take great pleasure in exacting my revenge on this man in particular. A smile spreads across my face and for a moment his own falters, as though he's read my mind. But at length, he relaxes. I think he knows that even after everything, I'm not quite cut out for physical torture. Besides, it would only be an embarrassment to try my hand at it on such an accomplished artist. And he'd probably enjoy it. But mark my mental words, Malfoy; you belong to me.

I turn my attention away from him then, knowing full well how he hates to be ignored and taking childish pleasure in _his_ displeasure. Now that I'm paying better attention, I notice that Remus looks a good deal healthier than the last time I saw him. His face has filled out again and the bruises that decorated his cheeks and jaw have faded to vague marks. Satisfied that he's likely only sleeping, I pull myself up. Lucius starts beside me as though to help me up, or possibly hold me down, but he thinks the better of it and relaxes in his chair. Smart man.

"So what have _you_ been up to these last eight weeks?" I ask, almost casually, as I lean back against the wall, moving the pillows so they support my lower back.

"After several extensive veritiserum and pensieve interrogations, I was released from my cage and sent to sit on my former master's shoulder. I've only just returned."

"And you chose to spend your 'free' minutes at my bedside?" I ask, mostly joking. Who knew why he was here? Most likely to avoid Dumbledore. After all, if he was here, he wasn't out causing mischief, and the man would probably leave him alone. Yet, to my surprise, he grows uncomfortable. "Aw, darling Lucius, have you gone and fallen in love with me?" I goad. To my surprise, two tiny, faint, dots of color rise to his cheeks. Oh, the fun I shall have with this one! He says nothing, and I let it pass, too exhausted to play any games right now.

"Tell me of what you've learned on your former master's shoulder," I instruct finally. He seems to relax slightly, and I wonder vaguely at the futility of it. Surely he's already told Dumbledore anything he's learned? But, nevertheless, I listen patiently as he explains the recent going ons at the Riddle House. Voldemort was understandably and predictably incensed that I'd escaped. All of his Death Nibblers have undergone several rounds of _Cruciatus_ for that little mistake. Apparently Severus and Lucius had both been out for a few days once it was all said and done. Six of his Munchers hadn't survived and his numbers have dropped to a paltry 23, including my two little birds and a few petite snakes that Lucius is confident will come over to me once given the opportunity.

"Is your son among them?" I ask casually. My most mad and immature parts hope that Draco was among the six who had died, just to have something else to hold over my former tormentor, but the more rational, and dare I say it _sane_, parts hope he _is_ among those snakes. I've gotten over the petty rivalry Draco and I fought over all those years ago -has it only been three?- and don't wish him any particular harm, really. Besides, he is a powerful wizard in his own right, if not a little cocky. He would be a welcome addition to the "Light" side.

"He is," Lucius says stiffly, and I let out a small mental sigh. Whether that sigh is more in relief or regret, I'll never tell.

"Good." I say, and he lets out a small sigh of his own. It occurs to me, somewhat belatedly, that I might have given him a bit of grief over whether or not I would _accept_ his son, but the thought passes quickly enough. I find, almost regrettably, that I appear to be returning to something like sanity now that the stones walls and rusty bars have been removed. Almost a pity really; there really _is _something joyous about madness...

"Anything else important, Lucius, darling?" I ask, already feeling exhaustion welling up to reclaim me. He shakes his head and I sink back into the pillows.

HPRL

The next time I awake, Lucius and Remus are both absent. In their places are Dumbledore and Draco respectively. I nearly growl at the old man at my bedside, but restrain the impulse by sheer willpower.

"I'm glad you're awake, Harry," Dumbledore greets, and if I didn't know him better, I'd probably believe him. No, that's not right. I suppose he _is_ glad I'm awake, but only because I'm more useful conscious.

"Where's Remus?"

"Awake and well. He's been beside you almost every moment since waking. He and Lucius Malfoy have been sharing the vigil. I've only just now relieved him."

"How do you like my little dove?" I ask, my eyes narrowed slightly in an accusation of some kind.

"I'm sure I'd like him much better if he would share his news with me," he says, giving me a searching look. For a moment I want to laugh. I want to _howl_ with laughter. All these years of me being the secondary loyalty and Lucius Malfoy is my redeeming grace! Aw, the irony, the _irony_!

"Is that so?"

"It seems that you gave him no orders as to whom to report to, and therefore, he has not."

The victory is sweet and delicious and I take several long moments to savor it. If Lucius were here at this moment, I think I might kiss him, possibly even go so far as to absolve him of his crimes. Perhaps it's a good thing Lucius isn't here. "Well, I'll be sure to talk to him," I say seriously, though my eyes jump in merriment and I'm sure he can see it. For a moment he looks so indescribably sad, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry. But only for a moment.

"I would appreciate that. Harry... I think it's long overdue that you and I have a long talk." He suddenly looks so very old and my face falls, his damnable vulnerability sullying my sweet, sweet victory. I try not scowl at him. I really do. "There is so much I have to apologize for," he starts, and immediately, I want to scream at him to stop. Because I know, damnit I _know,_ that if he apologizes, I'll forgive him. And I don't _want_ to! He's manipulating me, damnit! But he does apologize. And I listen in agony as all the hatred I've built up in my heart over these past five years is whittled down to mere bitterment. I hate him for it! I really do. I hope he burns in hell for everything he's done. I hope someone down there sees to fit to torment him the way he's tormented people like me and Severus. I really do... but... _damnit_! I won't be the person to do it. And I hate that, too.

"I... Merlin, I hate you," I seethe finally.

He smiles a small, watery smile. "I know, my son, I know."

"And you _know_ I'll forgive if you if just ask for it! And I hate you for that too! You manipulative old codger!" My voice rises steadily, and in the bed beside mine, Draco stirs fitfully in his sleep.

"I know."

"Why?! For _God's_ sake, _WHY?!_"

He smiles a slow smile, a smile I've worn far too many times recently. I think I realize then that he truly is just as mad I am. That one day, I'll be like him. I find the thought both terrifying and oddly humbling. "Where there is much light, the shadow is deep," he whispers finally, and I want to strangle him, but know I never well. Heaven damn me and hell help me, but I understand the bastard. I may never truely forgive him, just like I suppose Snape has never truly forgiven him, but I can't hate him any more.

"Albus?" I ask finally. I think he's shocked to hear his name on my lips, but isn't stupid enough to task me for it. If anyone has earned the right to use his first name, it's me. "Can I ask you for some advice?" Why the _hell_ I choose to confide in him, I shall _never_ know, like I suppose Snape will never know, but I suddenly want his advice very badly.

"When we ask for advice, we are usually looking for an accomplice," he points out with a twinkly little smile, that I simultaneously love and want to slap off his withered old face.

"Do you think you can control who you fall in love with?"

I think he's shocked by the question. Lord knows what he was expecting me to ask, lord knows what _I_ was expecting me to ask. After all, considering all the other problems I have heaping on my shoulders, comparatively trivial things like 'love' should be the last on the list of things to ask advice for. And I would hardly say that Albus Dumbledore gets the prize for most successful personal relationships.

"Forget it," I say before he can come up with something suitably profound and irritating. "It's nonsense."

"To appreciate nonsense shows a serious interest in life," he observes, and I'm forced to wonder where the hell he stores all these damnable little quotes and how the hell he pulls them up so damn fast. After a moment of thought, he continues, "When making a decision of minor importance, I have always found it advantageous to consider all the pros and cons. In vital matters, however, such as the choice of a mate...the decision should come from the unconscious, from somewhere within ourselves. In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature."

I gape at him. Why can't he give straight answers? He's like a walking, talking, perhaps even _breathing_ (though I still hold firm the belief that he's really been dead since Gindewald) riddle. I want to shout at him to just answer 'yes' or 'no' but I don't. Because I'd probably get a more convoluted answer to _that_ one than the question before. I sigh, realizing that however much I understand the man, I'll never truly _understand_ the man. He pats my arm in a conciliatory way and I sigh long-sufferingly as he takes his leave. Shortly afterwards, I hear someone else enter the ward, but am already dropping off to sleep.

HPRL

"Up, Potter!" I don't open my eyes, just to be obtuse. For a moment the magic of pre-waking transports me back to my cell and I fall back into my pattern of usual obstinacy. A set of warm hands fall to my shoulders and I find myself being shaken moments later. My eyes open with an angry snap and I glare up at Severus sullenly.

"What do you want?" I inquire, my voice petulant.

"Get up."

"Hm... no, I think I'll stay right here, if you don't mind _too_ terribly much." He growls low in his throat and I want to snicker. I've always enjoyed baiting Severus, but having recently come into a new appreciation for the art of irritation, I enjoy his displeasure more than usual.

"Potter, if you don't get up _now_, I will _haul you up by your ears!_"

"You should try the nose, it hurts more," I inform him seriously, but I can sense that something is going on and reluctantly pull myself up. I have no idea how long I've been in bed, but it seems to have done me some good and I feel significantly better than I did last time I woke. Seeing that I'm obeying, Snape starts throwing clothing at me, which I mechanically pull on.

"Mind telling me what's going on exactly?"

"While you've been lounging in bed, we've been working," Snape said, his lips pulled down in a frown, as though I _enjoyed_ landing myself in the hospital ward for over two months. I say nothing and give him a pointed look. He rolls his eyes. "Very shortly the Dark Lord will be calling a meeting of his followers."

"You woke me up for a Death Muncher meeting?" I ask incredulously, pausing in the act of pulling pants on.

"We have secured the loyalty of most of his followers. Those few that we've been unable to persuade have conveniently gone...missing."

"Ah."

"You will be joining us for the meeting," he announces stiffly, bracing himself for a fight.

"Oh goody!" I declare. "Back to Riddle Manor. I've missed the place, really. The reek of the dungeons... the Pebble Game." He stiffens angrily and I laugh. "Oh, dear me! You think I'm kidding." That sounds cryptic enough. He glares at me suspiciously and I finish dressing. "I don't suppose one of you little birdies has managed to get my wand back, no have you?" He rolls his eyes and hands me the familiar wand. I take a moment to run my fingers over the smooth surface. I had truly believed that I would never hold it again. It sings to me happily as it joyfully reintegrates its magic with my own. I smile at Severus sunnily and he makes an inpatient gesture with one hand. I finally pull on a familiar black robe, one eyebrow rising slowly. Snape doesn't deign to answer my unasked question and merely throws a white mask at me. I sigh and tuck it under one arm.

We're met in the hall by Remus, Lucius and Draco. I can see several other dark clad figures silhouetted in the doorway and I smile. "Ah, my very own Trojan horse. How delightful." Remus is the only one who laughs. His short stint in the dungeons seems to have provided him with some understanding of my mad humor. For the first time I wonder how long he'd been in captivity before they brought him to me. I glance at him speculatively and file the question away for later.

As we walk towards the door, I pull Remus close. "I believe I still owe you a candlelit dinner, Mr. Lupin," I say casually. He stiffens just _that much_, and I fight the urge to grin. I stop him for a moment and tug him down just slightly so I can rest my chin on his shoulder. "And _you_ owe me a fuck." I nod satisfactorily at the tiny shiver that runs down his frame and two spots of color that rise warm and pretty on his cheeks. I let him go and he steps away uncomfortably. I'm forced to wonder if he's uncomfortably aroused, or just uncomfortable. I suppose I'll find out later.

There's about twelve in our group, but the others already have masks on, so I don't know who they are. Perhaps they are my snakelets, perhaps auorors or Order members. I don't really care, but I guess I'll find out some day. Once past the anti-apparation wards, we wait. When the call comes, they wait a bit longer and then apparate out in twos and threes. Severus takes Remus by the arm and gives us a small nod as he disaparates. Lucius and I wait a moment longer in semi-comfortable silence and then he curls an arm around my waist, and the next time I open my eyes I find myself staring at the familiar eerie landscape surrounding Riddle Manor. A fine shudder passes through my body and Lucius squeezes me once, perhaps in reassurance, but quickly releases me and pulls on his mask. We probably should have done that earlier, but what's done is done. I pull on my own and we head out for the manor.

Voldemort is waiting impatiently on his gruesome, blood-encrusted bone throne. I follow Lucius' example and kneel briefly at his feet, Occluding myself from his distracted pass. When we're all arranged in a semi-circle, he turns his furious red eyes on us. "Where are my faithful?!" he shrieks. Besides the dozen or so that came with me, there's only poor, mad Bella. I can sense him in the back of my mind, furious and scared. "Where?!" he screams again, bouncing in his throne like a petulant child who's been denied his favorite dessert. I almost laugh when he finally gets the bright idea to unmask his 'faithful.' Lucius and I are in the middle of the line, and Remus is down at the opposite end from where he's started. One by one he rips off the masks to reveal the faces of his youngest Death Nibblers. Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, a few young men I don't recognize, and then _finally_, he's at me. A smile spreads across my face as his disfigured hand comes up to clutch at the mask. My wand is a comforting length in my hand and my fingers tighten around it _just slightly_ in anticipation. The mask comes off and Voldemort stares at me in shock.

"_Stupify!"_ And poor mad Bella goes down, a look of shock and rage frozen on her gaunt face. Voldemort hisses incoherently and wraps a hand around my throat. I'm reminded of poor Joey who forgot he had a wand and I didn't. I laugh and compliantly lock eyes with him. He smirks triumphantly as he pushes into my mind. He gleefully shifts through memories he feels should be important to me, showing them off like some twisted prize. Visions of the Dursleys and Tri Wizard Tournament flash through my mind, fighting with Draco, laughing with Ron, pushing Ginny up against the wall in the fourth floor corridor. By the time he's reached the _real_ wall, it's far too late. I laugh madly as he realizes that the memories were a ruse in and of themselves, and while he's busied himself with 'tormenting' me, I've slid around him and dismantled his walls. He backs away from me slowly, his eyes glazed and listless. I laugh as he falls.

"Such a pity," I admonish. "I thought you'd be more of a challenge than that." One simple twist and he's paralyzed from the neck down. Stupid Joeys, always forgetting they have wands. When I release him, he lets out an incoherent shriek of rage. I could have killed him, snapped his mind, but I want him conscious and aware for another few moments. "Tsk, tsk, Tommy boy, tsk, tsk. Pay attention, I want you to watch this." He can do nothing _but_ watch as I crook a finger at Lucius and motion him over. I can see him stiffen; we had no plan, but he's probably calling me 'stupid' in eight different languages for not killing the man right away. After all, that type of arrogance is what always got Voldie here in trouble, didn't it? But I want _him_ to see this.

Lucius removes his mask and at another gesture, kneels at my feet. He's mere inches away from his former master, but Voldie can't even move enough to touch him.

"You see this, Tommy boy?" I crouch down so I can speak softer. It's more effective that way. "I stole him right out from under you. I stole them all right out from under you." He sputters in indignant rage, unable to form words through his own fury. "Your left arm, Lucius."

I can see the gears turning in his head and he hesitates. "You didn't think I'd forget our wager, now did you?" I ask sweetly. He pulls up his left sleeve and offers me the pale expanse of skin found beneath the coarse fabric. The Dark Mark stands out prominently against the cool alabaster of his flawless skin and I run a finger over it.

Abruptly I set my wand to it and Lucius discovers my plan mere heartbeats before I execute it. "_Aeviummordre_." The hall is filled with light and he screams. Beside me, Voldemort screams too. I laugh. And laugh. And laugh. In the end it was pitifully easy to dismantle the 'death bite' and reform it. When the light fades, Lucius is unconscious on his side and Voldemort is still screeching in fury.

Abruptly his screaming turns to laughter and I tip my head to the side to survey him curiously. His mind is a torrent of madness, and I know he's not found some scheme to release himself...

"You'll kill me here today, Potter!" he crows and I rise an eyebrow. That was, of course, the point. "But I'll live on!" I consider it for a moment while he laughs. His horcruxes have all been destroyed and, as far as I can tell, he doesn't have anything else... "You will carry on my legacy! You will take up my empire!" He cries joyfully. I laugh uproariously and he stops to turn suspicious eyes on him.

"Oh, is that all? You're such a fool, little Thomas, such a fool." I dive back into his mind then and rip it apart while he screams in agony. Were I sane I couldn't stomach what I'm doing right now, but I'm _not _wholly sane, so I find it thoroughly enjoyable. Bit by bit I tear his mind to pieces, seeking out all the means he's employed to safeguard his immortality and finding them exhausted. True failures. The horcruxes were his only success, and they are all quite gone.

While shifting through his memories, I come to the grim conclusion that he and I have actually lead almost identical lives. The only real difference was that he was cast as the enemy from the start, and I the savior. What could this boy have been if only Dumbledore had taken a gentle hand to him? Perhaps the aged headmaster's failures with this boy are what led to his failures with another boy, sixty plus years later? I suppose I'll never truly know, but I guess it's probably true.

When I finally withdraw from his mind I find myself facing a weeping and broken man. I run my hand over the top of his bald head in an almost gentle fashion. His skin is slimy and porous like a sponge that's been left wet in a sink for too long. I do not grimace in distaste, but only smile at him gently.

"What could you have been?" I wonder, watching him cry with nothing but the most humble pity. "I could have been you."

"You will be!" he croaks.

I smile at him, a truly gentle smile. "I afraid not, Tom. I'm going to kill you now," I warn gently as I move one hand to support the nape of his neck. I've been warned that killing curse might affect him the same way it affected me all those years ago, and so, for a moment, I pretend that I'm one of those stupid Joeys who forgets he has a wand and I brace my other hand against his chin. He closes his eyes, tears still seeping out from under his lashless lids.

"Goodbye." He merely whimpers and I snap his neck. He lays limp in my hands and I set his head gently against the marble floor. "So this is the way the world ends..." I whisper, a small smile flitting across my face at the sheer anticlimaxity of it all. "Not with a bang, but a whimper."

Strong arms wrap around me, and I allow Remus to pull me up off the floor.

Finis

Optional Epilogue (If you're not in the mood for a happy ending DO NOT read on. I suppose in some ways, this epilogue really does ruin the story, but I suppose that depends on your mood.)

Some time between snapping Tom's brittle neck and escaping Riddle Manor, I think I must have passed out. Because the next thing I know, I'm back in the hospital wing. If it weren't for the fact that Lucius Malfoy is in the bed next to mine, I would have believed the whole fiasco was a dream.

"You could have warned me," Lucius mutters sullenly and I realize that he's awake.

I smile at him prettily. "I know." Stretching, I pull the covers back and climb out of the bed. The floor is cold against my feet, but I ignore it as I amble over to Lucius' bed and crawl on to it. He glares at me suspiciously when I reach for his arm, but doesn't protest. I had only a vague idea what I actually wanted the mark to look like, so I don't really know how it came out. I'm suitably amused to find a thin lightning bolt replacing the Dark Mark. I laugh joyously as I trace it with one finger.

He jerks his arm back and glares at me petulantly. "It's not funny," he mutters.

"Oh, but it is." I lean precariously close to his face. "You're _mine_ Lucius Malfoy, and I'm never going to let you forget it." He flushes and I smile at him as I pull back. I think he thought that I meant to kiss him. I wonder if he's disappointed. I hope he is.

"Where are you going?!" he demands as I start dressing, not caring that he's in the room. He's seen all of me there is to see, after all.

"I owe someone a candlelit dinner," I say over one shoulder as I head for the door, pulling my shirt on as I go. He gapes at my back and I ignore him.

I make a detour to my quarters and for the first time in recent memory, climb into the shower. The warm water feels exquisite running down my back and I curl into it like an overgrown cat. For a long minute, I consider not leaving the warmth of my shower, but I remember my promise and finally force myself to turn the water off.

I dress in a calculated manner. High collared black turtleneck, tight black dress pants, tailored black robes with an emerald lining. Hair pulled back in a tight tail, beard neatly trimmed into goatee. I glance at myself in the mirror.

"Nothing much to write home about, sweety," it tells me. I grin at it in a very unlovely way.

"Yes, well months of captivity will do that to a man," I point out nastily. It sniffs haughtily and is silent after that. I suppose the blasted thing is right. Whatever looks I may have lain claim to a year ago are long gone, replaced by sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. Even two and half months recovering in the hospital wing under Poppy's tender ministrations has not done much to combat the effects of poor food and no sunlight. Let's not forget the hours of torture either, hm? I sigh, decide it shall have to be good enough and take off for the kitchens.

Dobby is more than happy to have dinner sent to Remus' quarters and I procure a bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses.

Remus greets me at the door in a pair of comfortable sweats and a cardigan. His reading glasses are dangling from one hand and two fingers of the other hand are stuffed between the pages of his book.

"Uh… hello, Harry," he greets, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I believe I owe you a candlelit dinner," I say, holding up the glasses and the wine.

"I…" he looks helplessly behind him to find Dobby already setting up the table. "Well, I guess I haven't much choice, have I?" But he smiles and invites me in.

The dinner is quite possibly the best I've ever had. It tastes even better than the first meal I had at Hogwarts after being saved. So good, in fact, that I almost forget what _else_ I came to see Remus for.

"That was good," Remus says with a sigh.

"You never really appreciate food until you don't have it any more," I agree, leaning back in my seat. I smirk at him and he grows uncomfortable.

"Well, as I see it, I've given you your candlelit dinner…"

"Harry…" He stands and moves away from the table. "What could you possibly want with me?" He backs away from me as I advance.

"I've always wanted you."

"Don't lie, boy. It's unkind, and it's foolish." I've got him cornered now, and I trace a hand down his chest as he hits the wall. "Harry, I'm _old_ and _tired-"_

"To me, fair friend, you can _never_ be old," I tell him, the seriousness of my voice marred by the cheeky grin splashed across my face.

"Don't quote Shakespeare to _me_, you impertinent boy," he tells me, but he smiles. With a grin, I crush my mouth against his, and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. Suddenly his reluctance evaporates and the fiery man I witnessed in the cell so long ago –how long? A lifetime, surely- tears through the quiet, unimposing man I've grown to love.

My robes pool at my feet and he's tearing at my shirt as we walk backwards, bumping into _everything_ as we do, and I'm sure I'll have new bruises in the morning. But for the moment, I don't care. His cardigan comes of, and buttons fly as I rip the shirt open.

He pauses to give me a shocked look. "And _who's _the wolf, here?" he asks, and I laugh. I dance away from him briefly to slide out of my pants. No underwear. He raises an eyebrow and I smirk. "Hopeful?"

I say nothing as I turn slowly and give him a look over my shoulder. Without waiting for him, I disappear into his bedroom. As I arrange myself on the sheets, and the seconds pass, I begin to wonder if it wasn't foolish to leave him to his own devices and let him second-guess himself.

I'm ready to venture back out in to the living room when the door opens again and Remus ambles in, completely nude. He's still ripcord-thin and his body is littered with scars, both new and old. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him eagerly as he approaches. He settles on the bed and looks like he's going to start a serious discussion. But I don't_ want_ a serious discussion. I pull him back, almost roughly and straddle his hips.

"Harry-!"

"Make me warm again," I plead quietly, my head tucked against his neck. In that moment, it's no longer about sex. I find I do _want_ serious discussion. But not the verbal kind. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and rolls me over so I'm pinned between his body and the bed.

"You don't feel so cold to me," he observes, running a hand down my side. I shiver and squirm under his fingers. He smiles and leans down to capture my lips. But I don't want gentle. With a growl, I bite down on his lower lip. Goosebumps rise on his arms and I smirk as I wrap my legs around his hips. He's quick to get the point and buries his head against my neck and bites down as he thrusts against me. I arch upwards and bare my throat, fingers wrapping around his arms and tightening to almost bruising pressure.

The heat rises quickly between us and I nearly scream when he finally pushes into me, his attempts at preparation having been met with growls and impatient swats. It hurts –God in heaven, it hurts- but I've taken pain before, and this is a different sort of pain. I look up at him, and for a moment I feel free. For one moment I am beautiful and whole.

In this one act, I find forgiveness.

He strokes me in time with his thrusts and I don't last long. I bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming, and end up whimpering helplessly as I come, my vision actually graying for a moment.

I smile up at him as the world gradually returns. He smiles back, and abruptly I start laughing. It's laughter reminiscent of the dungeon cell. He looks momentarily concerned and I smile up at him.

"So this is the way world ends?" I ask. Though I'd say there was definitely a _bang _in there somewhere…

He curls around me and I turn to smile at him.

"Are you ready?" I ask

"For what?"

"Anything. Everything. The whole world, Remus."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

I curl up against his chest and let him wrap his arms around me. "Sure. It can wait."


End file.
